See bottom for A/N

...

Lethe ~ In the Classical Greek, literally means 'oblivion', 'forgetfulness', and 'concealment'.

Honestly, being a nobody wasn't that bad.

There are still times where I would give a lot to go back to being a nobody, but unfortunately, life doesn't work like that. Being someone who went unnoticed could get old really quick, but it had its perks as well. No one had any expectations for you, especially not high ones. No one noticed when you screwed up. It was easy to simply live in the background- sort of.

So when I got shoved to center stage, you can bet that it wasn't exactly a welcome change for me. It also didn't help that being 'center stage' was actually incredibly dangerous. Ask me how I know.

My dreams are the only time I get to enjoy being more than who I am, at least until-

"Luke!"

My eyes shot open.

They scanned around the bedroom, which was covered in a heaping pile of nothing, absolutely nothing, until they landed on the only thing sitting on my desk other than my backpack- my alarm clock. I groaned. Six years of this, and waking up early was still the worst part about school, other than the bullies.

As I threw off my blanket, and slid out of bed, I heard Mrs. Gilbert call, "Luke, you up?"

"Yes ma'am."

I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, before making my way over to the bathroom. As I turned the shower knob, I simultaneously grabbed my toothbrush out of the clear glass sitting by the small sink. The shower always needed exactly two minutes and eleven seconds to heat up fully. Don't ask me how I know that- I just do somehow. While the time it took for the hot water to appear was annoying, it provided me just enough time to brush my teeth first.

As I brushed my teeth, I watched a small spider scuttle across the bathroom floor. I shuddered, and remained tense until it disappeared under the baseboard before I could finally relax.

Once my shower was done, I stepped back in front of the mirror, as I tried to tame my hair once again with a comb. I was unsuccessful, per usual. The unruly black locks were rebellious little fiends, even when damp. Oh, and they were also bipolar. Starting off nice and straight, my hair fell to just below the tops of my ears, before it gave me a giant middle finger, and decided to curl viciously. Those little tufts of curls at the end were the bane of my existence.

Like most things other than school, I eventually just gave up worrying about it. A pretty easy thing to do when you're a nobody. After I put my contacts in, I scavenged through the pile of clothes sitting on the floor of my bedroom, before pulling out two articles of clothing.

Gym shorts or jeans today?

I sniffed both, curling my nose at the musk coming off the denim apparel. Gym shorts it is then.

I walked down the stairs with my backpack slung over my shoulder, spotting Mrs. Gilbert in the kitchen, messing around with what smelled an awful lot like bacon in a pan. She must have heard me coming down, because she turned to greet me with a kindly smile.

Just so we're clear, the Gilberts are my foster parents. I've been with them for about a year now, which is a pretty decent period of time when it comes to my experiences in the foster care system. Normally, I didn't last six months before I ended up getting sent back by whatever family had ventured to take me in.

The reasons were fairly unusual, even for a kid with a background like mine. I don't know how else to explain it other than that things just happen to me. It's usually never even my fault. For example, one time the garage had caught on fire, right after I had gone in to grab my skateboard and walked out. There had been no explanation for it. Another time, my foster family and I were riding in the car when a Turkey Vulture flew through the windshield. I don't know how it got pinned on me. It must have had something to do with the fact that it landed right in my lap.

The weirdest incident, however, was the most recent one. We came home to find what we soon figured to be owl droppings everywhere. All over the inside of the house- except my room, of course. I only lasted five weeks with that family.

And so that is how I came to live with the Gilberts. They were nice, very nice actually. Mrs. Gilbert was a short, friendly woman, who had a weird quirk for collecting bottle caps, but she was very understanding of me- if that was possible. Mr. Gilbert wasn't home often; he spent a lot of time at work, and so I usually only saw him at nights, just before I went to bed. He worked in pest control.

Mr. and Mrs. Gilbert had tried having kids of their own, but soon discovered their extremely unfortunate circumstances regarding their ability to conceive. So they decided to try foster care, with the hopes of someday adopting.

I liked the Gilberts a lot, and it seemed they liked me, at least, I think they did. It was a shame, really. I could have allowed myself to get more emotionally attached, if I knew it all wasn't going to be disrupted eventually by some unexplainable act of God.

"Good morning, Luke," Mrs. Gilbert said cheerfully, "How'd you sleep?"

I shrugged. "Can't complain."

She nodded in response, and went back to her task of dishing out the slices of bacon onto a plate. She handed it over to me gingerly.

"For your algebra final."

I took the plate gratefully, and tossed my backpack down on the floor, before sliding into a chair at the kitchen table.

"How do you feel about it?" Mrs. Gilbert asked.

"Fine," I said nonchalantly, "I'm more worried about the biology test tomorrow. I've actually had to study hard for that one."

"I'm sure you'll do fine," She said in a reassuring tone, "You've got all A's still; I doubt even a bad final would do much harm."

"It would annoy me."

"As it should. Now hurry up and eat, before the bus comes."

…..

I was almost sad it was the second to last day of classes. Call me crazy, but I actually enjoyed being in school. Well- some of it. I liked the learning aspect of it, and the fact that I got to essentially compete against others to be the best and brightest student. Not to brag, but few kids in that school could even come close to having the same prestige that I possessed concerning grades.

If only being smart equated to being less of a loser.

As I sat at my desk, waiting for our algebra teacher to show up, I looked over my notes one last time with a sense of urgency. It was only a matter of time before-

THUNK

All of the notes and books that had been resting on my desk were thrown to the floor. I wasn't even startled, as I looked up from where I sat to see Kenny Horton smirking down at me with that big, ugly mouth, full of yellow-stained teeth.

Now you may be imagining the stereotypical bully; a large, maybe overweight, boy with all the baby fat still on his face. Or maybe you're imagining a jock; good looking, gets all the girls, cocky. Well, scrap all that because this guy was none of those things. Kenny Horton was maybe only an inch taller than me, just over six feet. He wasn't skinny, but he wasn't big either. His straight, greasy brown hair looked like a mop, literally, as it fell down to his neck.

If you didn't know better, you would think he was just another loser like me, which he was, technically. Kenny didn't have much going for him; he wasn't athletic, nor was he smart. He took an L (as the kids would say) in the looks department as well.

His biggest flaw though, was that he had no ambition or drive. Kenny didn't even try to be good at anything, except completely useless and random stuff. While I was satiating my thirst for knowledge, and expanding my vocabulary, Kenny and his friends were expanding their plethora of pathetic talents by practicing the technique of removing the cap of a Chapstick with their bellybuttons.

So yeah, this was the guy who bullied me. I actually felt sorry for him in some ways, at least until he dumped my textbooks on the floor. I figured he was just extremely insecure, and the only way to make himself feel good was to pick on the very few kids who were bigger losers than he was- aka me.

"Watch where you're going, nerd," Kenny taunted.

I rolled my eyes at his usual lame insult. "My apologies, Kenneth."

"Don't call me that! It's not my name!"

"And my name isn't 'loser'."

He sneered at me, until a mischievous glint formed in his dull brown eyes. "Oh, my apologies Luke… I'm sorry, what was your last name again?"

There it was, the only thing that really got me, and unfortunately, Kenny knew it.

"Oh, that's right. You don't have one!"

I could feel myself begin to bristle, but at that moment, the teacher walked into the classroom, a stack of test papers under her arm. Kenny gave my notes one last kick, scattering them even more, before he and his lackies strutted over to their desks in the back corner.

All I could think, in that moment, was that Kenny Horton was the kind of person you could use as a blueprint to build an ignoramus.

I slipped out of my desk chair, and fell to the floor to begin scooping up my notes. As I did so though, I felt a presence appear beside me, and I turned to see someone else picking up the last of my notes, and the other textbook that had fallen as well.

"Here you go," The boy said kindly, handing everything back to me.

I recognized him by some miracle. It was Cole Hansen, one of the football players, who was by every sense of the definition, a jock. He was a bit younger than me, but also a sophomore as well. He was already much bigger than I could ever hope to be though, at least muscle wise. I had tutored him once for a literature test earlier in the year. He was nice, I guess, though that wasn't saying much. My threshold for someone being nice is that they don't try to bully me.

"Thanks," I replied, taking the stack of notes from him.

He nodded politely, and then brushed past to take his seat near the middle of the room. I barely had enough time to sit back down, and clear my desk of everything, before the teacher was placing a test down in front of me.

It's an odd feeling when, despite my dyslexia and ADHD, the hardest part of taking a test isn't actually taking the test; it's choosing what to put as your last name on the front page.

I had already written out Luke in clean, legible handwriting. Now, as i tapped my pencil against the paper, I ran a hand through my hair in frustration. What was it going to be this time? Luke Miller? Luke Tromell? I could just go Luke C. again, and leave it at that. Was I willing to put Luke Gilbert?

I shook my head. It was only a matter of time before they were in the past as well.

Not having a surname can be tough. Unfortunately, deciding what to put on the front page of your test is not the worst thing about it. It's having to explain to literally everyone why you don't have an official documented last name that really sucks.

I don't remember my parents much at all. Scratch that; I don't remember a thing about them. I don't have a single memory from the time before I turned six years old, and by then, I was already in the foster care system. My parents had seemingly disappeared off the face of the earth, and I don't like to think about why.

I had DNA tests done on me to try and discover who I belonged to, but the strangest thing always happened. The tests always came back missing half the results. It was like I only had half of the DNA I was supposed to have. And so, it was impossible to identify my parents, and in succession, to determine my official last name.

I tried adopting the surnames of my foster families at first, but it soon became pointless, as I always ended up getting sent back. I gave up trying in the end. I was a nobody, so who cared?

I went with Luke C. normally for that class, so I just stuck with it this time.

The algebra final was a breeze per usual, even with the letters floating off the page, and my knee constantly shuffling from my desire to move regularly. I finished before everyone else, and was content to sit there, confident in the work I had done, and try not to explode from being unallowed to fidget too much. It was an excruciating twenty minutes, waiting for everyone else to finish, and for the bell to go off, signaling the end of the period.

When it finally did, I rapidly handed in my test, and strode briskly out of the classroom. Expertly maneuvering through the hordes of angsty teenagers filling the halls of the school, I made my way to my locker. As I dumped my now-unneeded notes and textbook into my locker, I felt the hairs on my neck standup, and the air got seemingly colder.

Here we go again.

I quickly turned from the locker, and faced the crowd of passing kids streaming out of the classrooms, like ants pouring out of a broken anthill. I scanned the hallways, looking for the thing that got me on edge.

When I finally spotted it, my blood ran cold. It was hideous; there was no other way to describe the monster. She retained the mostly humanoid face and torso, but her features were almost vampiric. I watched the creature walk awkwardly down the hall, and through the gaps in the crowd, I could make out her bottom half. I would have been shocked if this had not been the first time I had seen a vampire with one goat leg, and one completely metal one. I also knew, from previous sightings, that the woman/monster would have fangs, and sometimes, her hair would be on fire.

You would think I wouldn't be the only one staring at such a creature; that everyone would take notice, and say something. Though I have no idea what you would say about such a monstrosity.

I imagine going up to it and saying "Hi! I'm a human being. What are you?" would not go over well.

Unfortunately, it seemed I was the only crazy (or possibly sane?) person in the entire world. I had given up on trying to get people to notice the monsters a long time ago. It only made me sound crazier and more of a loser than I had already been. Even I was starting to question my sanity.

Without fail, as I watched the vampire cyborg goat lady walk down the hall, her image flickered, and for a minute, she looked like a regular woman. A teacher, in her late forties no doubt. But then, she would flicker again, and I'd be looking at a monster for just a moment.

The vampire lady wasn't the only monster I had seen prowling around on occasion, as they seemed to follow me wherever I went. There was also the leathery, flying hag that I had seen in a library once, or the corgi that somehow morphed into a black, doglike hound the size of a small car. And yet, no one would believe me when I said that there was a man with a goat butt and horns chilling under an oak tree in Central Park.

I continued to stare at the vampire lady, and it seemed she hadn't noticed me doing so… until she stopped suddenly in her tracks. Her image flickered back to a normal looking teacher- and then she sniffed the air. I don't know how it happened, but it was like her nose was leading her vision, and unfortunately, it led her gaze right to me.

I'm wasn't sure if I had forgotten to put on my deodorant that morning or something (my pits did feel unusually sweaty). This was a first time a monster had taken notice of me though, and it freaked me out. The vampire woman didn't move from her spot, but as she continued to stare at me, her lips lifted up in a sort of vicious snarl, revealing her sharpened fangs.

I panicked, and threw my belongings in my locker, before bolting down the hallway to my next class. Thankfully, I didn't see the bizarre creature the rest of the day, and so I was able to chalk it up to my imagination. Little did I know; I wasn't the only one who had seen the monster that day.

…..

Coming home was always an interesting experience, if you could even call it 'home'. The idea of home was a foreign concept to me. According to the dictionary, home is defined as a place of permanent residence. So there's my first problem- permanency. Nothing in my life had ever been permanent, whether it was my foster family, the school I went to, or the bullies that I always attracted. The only permanent thing I knew were the monsters, both nonhuman and human.

The next problem comes from the second part of the definition for home- 'usually as a member of a family'. I guess I had my parents to thank for this one. Not sure if that's the right word though. No matter how much I thought about it, I could never figure out what I would say if I ever found my parents.

Hiya! The name's Luke. Remember me? The kid who you didn't want, and gave away with no possible hope of a decent life? Yep, that one.

I wasn't sure how that would go over if I did find them. I guess 'find' was not a good word either; it implied I would ever voluntarily look for them. Yet another dream I gave up on a long time ago.

Walking into the Gilberts' home, I was greeted with the usual reception from Mrs. Gilbert.

"Oh, hey Luke. How was school?"

Great, I saw another monster today that no one else could see, once again, further proving my cognitive insanity. Aced that algebra final though.

"It was good. Test went well."

"Glad to hear it," She replied, "I think that deserves a celebration. Would you like something special for dinner?"

I paused at the bottom of the stairs, before turning back.

"Pancakes?" I asked hopefully.

Mrs. Gilbert smiled. "Of course, I should have guessed."

I'm going to miss her, I thought to myself as I bounded up the stairs two steps at a time. Flinging the door open, I stepped into the vast emptiness that was my room, and threw my backpack down on the floor.

I had a love/hate relationship with my bathroom mirror. On the one hand, I needed it to make sure I didn't walk out of the house looking like a chucky doll. On the other, it served as a constant reminder of the reasons why I'm an outsider. Standing in front of the mirror, I could see nothing particularly unusual or odd about my appearance, as my raven hair, olive skin, and pale blue eyes were not extremely peculiar in any particular way.

But then, knowing I would regret it later, I brought my fingers up to my eyes, and removed my contacts.

As I stared back into the mirror, where there was once a reflection of simple blue eyes, I was now met with a pair of strange eyes gazing back at me. A ring of bluish green surrounded an inner circle of stormy grey, and the two bands seemed to swirl together, but at the same time remain separate and distinct. Yet another gift my parents gave me, and another reason for people to call me a freak and a loser.

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Mrs. Gilbert calling my name from downstairs, and I hastily put my contacts back in, and then, after taking one last glance at the mirror, I walked out of the room.

….

Well, here it is. My next story.

As you may have guessed already, this is a 'Percabeth's kid' story. I can already hear some of you groaning internally, and maybe externally. I get it… like "ANOTHER percabeth's kid story? Ugh! I've read so many of those already and they're all the same!"

Trust me, I know. But believe me when I say that I have every intention of making this one totally unique and different from all the other stories about percy and annabeth's kid, or the kids of the 7 in general. This story will have an actual plot, that is hopefully decent, and not completely predictable.

As such, this story will feature mostly OCs… so if you're not into that, sorry. There will be lots of cameos though obviously, so maybe stick around and give it a shot- please?

ALSO – VERY IMPORTANT… for this story, we're gonna pretend that TOA (specifically TBM) never happened. So that means that a certain *cough* *ahem* demigod *cough* never died. It's nice because I prefer to pretend that never happened anyways. So yeah, just keep that in mind throughout the story.

Updates, unlike P&P, will NOT be coming out every day, because I just can't make that work anymore. School is out, but I've got a job now, and my schedule is just too hectic to make that happen. Plus, I want to make sure my writing is actually good this time, especially since I'm writing in a style (1st person) that is different from my usual style of writing. Might be a good thing, cuz my normal writing style sucks.

I've got a pretty good idea of what clichés to avoid when it comes to these stories about the kids of the 7, specifically percabeth, but if you want to comment and list any that you particularly dislike or can just think of, I'd appreciate that too.

Will update again probably this time next week!

Ciao